


Pieces of Potato Peel Pie

by an_unironic_enthusiast



Category: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (2018), The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society - Mary Ann Shaffer & Annie Barrows
Genre: Epistolary, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-07-29 06:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16258994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_unironic_enthusiast/pseuds/an_unironic_enthusiast
Summary: Kit McKenna-Adams is a nineteen-year-old student at King's College, London. Though she has heard the stories of how her biological parents met and were killed, how her adoptive parents met and fell in love, she knows very little about her biological father, German soldier Dr. Christian Hellman. She decides to find her biological grandparents, Christian's parents Herr and Frau Hellman, and write to them seeking information about Christian.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fic of any kind, any fandom. I've watched the movie about five times since it came out on Netflix and found myself wondering that even though the Society, particularly Amelia, was very decisive on not telling their story in case word about Kit's heritage got out, would Kit, once she was old enough, want to know more?
> 
> In keeping with the original text (though I haven't read the book), this fic is in epistolary (letter) form. So far, I only have the one letter, from Kit to the Hellman's. It's a one-shot for now, I'm not sure if I'll continue it.

2 April 1961

Dear Herr & Frau Hellman,

My name is Katherine Anne Adams. I am nineteen years old and a student at King’s College, London. I was born in February 1942 on the island of Guernsey during the German occupation. My mother’s name was Elizabeth Anne McKenna. The reason I am writing to you may come as a shock, because my father was your son, Dr. Christian Hellman. 

I never knew my father, nor did he even know about me as my mother never got the chance to tell him before he was arrested and killed. Part of the reason I am writing to you is to tell you a little bit about myself and my story. The other part is I am hoping to learn more about my father. Over the years, I have learned much about my mother, Elizabeth, and how she met Christian from my family back home on Guernsey, but I know very little about my father. All I know is that he was a kind, decent man during a time of hardship and conflict. 

My mother was twenty-two years old when she met my father at the hospital where he was stationed. She worked as a nurse there during the occupation. I have been told that she hated him when they first met and what he stood for, but nonetheless he was drawn to her. I can understand why he would be, as she was a compassionate, loving, and outspoken woman. Eventually, after working in such close proximity to each other, she learned his true nature and they fell in love. I do not remember much about her, mostly feelings, mental images of her beautiful smile and warm eyes. She was arrested in 1944 for helping a sick, injured Todt worker and sent to the Ravensbruck Prison Camp. In 1946, I found out that she had been killed for protecting a young girl from being beaten by a guard. I was four years old. I loved my mother very much and still do. It pains me every day to know she was a wasteful casualty in a despicable war, but I am also incredibly proud of her. She was an unwavering light during a very dark time, brought comfort to those who knew her best, and always thought of those less fortunate before herself. 

The night that my mother was arrested, she left me in the care of one of her dearest friends, Dawsey Adams. He, too, was a friend of Christian’s and has cared for me ever since that fateful night. Much like my mother, he always looks out for others, going so far as to giving the last of his bread to the Todt worker that night. He is a caring, humble, hard-working man and the only father I have ever known. Happily, in 1946 after the occupation, he met a writer from London by the name of Juliet Ashton. They began exchanging letters after he discovered her address in a book that he found. They married in the spring of 1947 and legally adopted me soon after that. I love and respect them more than anyone else in this world and they love me as if I was their own. Please know that they raised me well, as someone Elizabeth and Christian would be proud of. 

My adoptive mother and father are both part of the book club that Elizabeth founded during the occupation, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. They are both lovers of books and reading, and have passed that love to their four children, including myself. It was this love that brought them together, quite literally. Sadly, my mother never knew Elizabeth, though I know they would have been kindred spirits, both passionate, gentle women with personalities as strong as wild fire. When I told my parents that I was interested in writing to you, and in finding out more information about Christian, they were very supportive and encouraging. My mother even enlisted the help of my godfather, Sidney Stark, her publisher here in London. 

Even though it has taken the rest of my family, and book club members, Amelia Maugery, Isola Pribby, and Eben and Eli Ramsey, many years to recover from the war and what happened to Elizabeth, they understand why I want to learn more about Christian. Their book club was formed not only out of a mutual love of reading, but a love for their community, and a want of connection. Even Christian was a member for just one night. In fact, it was how he spent his last night on Earth. This small community quickly became my family, and I theirs. They welcomed my mother to their family and, along with my father, fell in love with her. Through these people that knew and cared for them, Elizabeth and Christian taught me that family is not what you are given, but what you make of it. All of us are just pieces of a whole family, like the pieces of the Potato Peel Pie that brought them together all those years ago. We celebrate happy occasions, and lament unhappy ones. We encourage and help one another. We love each other. I love them and would not trade them for anything.

I apologize that this letter is very untoward. I understand that it may not be easy to read, though I hope you understand why I wanted to write it and I hope you respond with any information you would be willing to share about Christian. 

PS. Though my given name is Katherine, please call me Kit. That is what my family calls me.

Most Sincerely,

Kit Adams


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a letter from Christian's parents to Kit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have decided to continue the story! Onward we go!

5 May 1961

Dear Kit,

You are entirely correct- your letter did come as quite a shock to us. Nevertheless, we are overjoyed to learn this news, that you are our granddaughter, Christian’s daughter. Overjoyed, yet bittersweet. Alas, you requested information about your father, and we are happy to oblige.

Christian was born and raised in Coburg landkreise, rural state. His father was the area veterinarian and we had a small farm near the local village. Though Christian loved animals, we all assumed he would follow in his father’s footsteps, he dreamed of going to university in the city, in order to learn and help others. He went on to Cologne to attend the university and then medical school. Cologne was quite a long way away from our farm in Coburg, but Christian loved it. He often wrote his father and I about everything he was learning, his friends, the culture he was taking in. We were delighted for our son, that he was making a life for himself more than what we could have imagined for him. 

Then, much to our dismay, after he graduated from medical school, he was forced to enlist in the army. You see, Christian was torn. He was a reasonable man, disgusted by everything the Nazis and Hitler stood for, but also knew that people need help everywhere, no matter their beliefs or background. He thought if he just kept his head down and did his duty as a physician then he could get through. Christian believed that conversation was greater than conflict, and compassion was greater than controversy. In his last letter to us, he wrote that he was getting ready to leave for one of the Channel Islands, which, you say, is where he met your mother.

Elizabeth must have been an extraordinary woman with an adventurous soul for Christian to have been in love with her. There were many young girls who fancied Christian when he was growing up, but he was always dreaming of more. He was always reading, learning; he read every book in our small village library many times over and would sometimes hitch rides to the next town over to visit their library. The way you describe her, it is no surprise to us that Christian loved Elizabeth. It sounds as though Christian and Elizabeth were quite a match- compassionate, educated, free-spirited. 

It gives us comfort, knowing that he was with your mother, and the rest of your family, his last night in this world. I am certain it reminded him of home. Christian loved meeting people, getting to know them, helping them, learning from them. Had it been under different circumstances, he would have looked forward to many more meetings of your book club. 

Thank you for writing to us and telling us about yourself and your family. We are eternally grateful to your parents and we are proud of you, and of Christian and Elizabeth. We hope you will continue to write us and tell us of your family and studies in London.

Sincerely,

Anna & Otto Hellman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter: @laurenw_m7
> 
> Tumblr: @luminous-beings77

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: @lauren_m7  
> Tumblr: @luminous-beings77


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